


Patron's Choice

by RandoNando



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-23 06:44:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17678447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandoNando/pseuds/RandoNando





	1. Chapter 1

“You want me to do what?!”  
Xi is gawking at her captain, who just shrugs.  
“I don’t want him loose either, but the king’s given us orders.”  
“But he’s a murderer-”  
“Look. I can take care of Zephithen if you track down the other two.”  
The captain isn’t pleased with the idea of working with criminals, either, but… If it’ll help the kingdom, he’s willing to tolerate them. Besides… His directions come from the king. He hasn’t failed the man yet, and he’s not about to start now.  
“Fine…” Xi sighs. “...Who am I looking for?”


	2. the Gathering

Zephithen sighs as a pair of guards bind his hands on the other side of the post. This is a somewhat familiar situation for him, from before he even came to Rekh’Aren… But he doesn’t talk about that much. He doesn’t talk about anything much. To the people here, he’s a criminal and he’s a murderer… Nothing more. And he’s fine with that. They leave him alone.   
He hears Teg walking up behind him, undoubtedly retying that knot her hair always seems to be in. She’s a cruel woman… But she’s loyal to the guard and loyal to the king. So she works almost solely in punishments and she does it well. A bit too well, in Zephithen’s eyes.

As Jour’tal walks to the yard, he sees Teg holding a whip and eyeing the back of a tall, muscular man bound to a large post, long black hair pushed over the man’s shoulder. Said man is shirtless, and his back, shoulders and arms are all littered with brands and scars. This seems similar enough to Zephithen, but when he circles around and sees those unnaturally golden eyes, he’s certain.   
“I need this one, Teg.”  
Jour’tal turns his gaze to the woman, who is pushing a stray lock out of her face when she grunts.  
“You can have him when I’m done.”  
The captain sighs. It’s never simple with her.  
“I need him alive.”  
“What? It’s not like I’m going to kill ano-”  
“Now, Teg. Unless you would rather take his place?”  
She’s known for taking things further than is needed… or legal, in a few cases, but… The latter is a rare occasion. Still, she’s owed a few punishments of her own. So there’s a long moment of her glaring at him, only to be met with a calm, stern expression, and she pushes the whip into his chest before walking off with a huff.   
During this, Zephithen is listening, rather confused. He knows the captain’s voice as well as anyone that lives in the city… So why is the captain after him? All he did this time was make a distraction for an old friend. ...And out himself as a Chosen, but… That’s the less pressing point, at the moment. So what if one of the Patrons decided his was going to be a life that they tamper with? Alkor hasn’t done anything to help him in years. As he ponders this, the manacles are unlocked and he’s led away by the arm. The captain makes a point to keep his other hand on his sword, of course, and keeps Zephithen in his peripheral vision… Not that either of those are much of a surprise. And into the heart of the city they go.

~

Kirotar glances to Nefat, sending her a wink before he looks over the market crowd again. Despite that, he can feel her rolling her eyes from here. It’s hardly a moment before she starts walking into the crowd, and he turns away into a small alley. He’s the backup plan, after all… If the sprig in his hand withers, he’s supposed to ignite something and they run. But… A glance down, and it’s still there. So… He waits. But it shouldn’t take this long… Should it? ...He trusts Nefat; they’ve known each other for years and have been working together for almost as long, but… A man can only wait for so long before he starts to get suspicious. So he starts scanning the crowd for the beads that would be braided into her hair… And he doesn’t see her. He steps out a bit to see if she went further down than they had discussed, but… Soon enough, there’s a hand closing around his wrist and tugging him back. He digs his heels into the dirt, reaching for one of his daggers, but before he can turn, there’s the bite of a blade starting to dig into the side of his neck hard enough to get him to pause. A warning.   
“You really should know better than to attack a guard by now.”  
Of course it’s a guard. The voice is feminine, and when he sheaths his dagger again, the sword is lowered again. When he turns to look the person in the eye, he sees someone dressed in the silver and blue uniform of the guards- no surprise there- and the woman has her hair pulled back and a scar runs from her right cheekbone across to her left brow. He stops looking for important features there, because… That would be pretty hard to cover up, if she wanted to hide.   
“I steal and I stab people for a living, sweetheart. You really think I’d stop at a guard? Or maybe it’s that pretty face of yours-”   
He stops when she glares at him. It’s the sort of look that says if he doesn’t stop, he might not leave with all his fingers and toes. Or maybe he’s just assuming the worst. He glances over her shoulder, though… Time for an exit. Once he finds a flammable tent, he clenches his left fist around that sprig, feeling it crush and char as the scar up his arm burns and spreads closer to his shoulder. The guard turns to look at what the commotion is about, and he bolts before seeing if she turns back. 

When the tent goes up in flames, Nefat is one of the people first trying to put it out. She knows what it means, and she knows that she’s unarmed. And hasn’t been caught breaking any laws. Sure, a few things have been poisoned and a few criminals have come back from things they logically shouldn’t have without help, but… She hasn’t actually been caught doing anything prohibited. What may or may not have been pieced together is another story… But a healer is a healer. Even if she charges extra for the guards that come by. So when that blue cloak and armor come into view, she just gives a little nod and keeps pulling things out of the tent. At some point, though, there’s a hand on her shoulder, steering her somewhere else… And she just walks along, looking back.   
“Mind if I ask where we’re going?”  
The words have a bit more bite to them than might be needed, but… It’s fine.  
“We’ve been summoned by the king- That includes your friend.”  
“Patrons above… What did he do this time?”  
The words fall out of her mouth almost before Nefat has time to think them over, and the guard stops.   
“...This time?”  
“It’s a long story. The question still stands.”  
The guard shakes her head, continuing forward.   
“Nothing, as far as I know, aside from murder and theft that he’s already been marked for. But… I’ve been called for as well. And the captain.”  
That can’t mean anything good. But… As content as Nefat had been to walk the rest of the way to the palace in silence… The guard speaks up after another several moments.   
“Do you know where he is? Your associate, that is.”  
Nefat just… shrugs.  
“Not a clue. He was out of sight when the fire started.”  
She may have sounded a little bit smug, but that’s because she is. And the guard sighs.   
“Would you at least help me find him?”


	3. Old Friends and New

Over time, Jour’tal loosened his grip on Zephithen’s arm. The man is coming along willingly, after all. And trying to drag him any faster won’t do anyone any good. The silence is new, though. He’d expected a few questions, at least, but the man doesn’t seem interested in making conversation. If anything, Zephithen seems like he wants to recoil into himself and disappear… Which is unusual. For all the reputation the man has… The captain had expected more. But, then, gossip does tend to get blown out of proportion, so it shouldn’t be too surprising. And yet… He finds himself surprised, even if only a little. So after quite a while of walking, he looks over. 

“What’s the problem?”  
Zephithen looks over, shrugging with a quiet grunt.  
“I want my cloak. And shirt. And, preferably, swords. But I doubt you’d want me armed.”  
Zephithen isn’t cold, exactly, but… The weight of thick cloth hanging from his shoulders is a comfort. He feels bare without it, and they’re blocks from where he handed them off. That was a new shirt, too… But he’s got more. It’s the cloak that holds the emotional attachment. The familiarity.   
The captain’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, though.  
“I’ll have someone bring them to us before we meet with the king.”  
That tone is entirely too casual for the statement… And Zephithen stops. There’s no way that’s going to end well.   
“And why are we going to the king?”  
“Because he’s asked for you. And others. Come on.”  
The captain starts pulling Zephithen along, then, and the latter tenses up, but follows after a moment. It’s not just him and the captain… So there should, hopefully, be a chance for him to walk back out of the castle walls. Of course, with nothing else to say… Zephithen falls back into silence as the castle comes into view.

~

Kirotar is still in the market. In the tent of the only other healer he knows well… And she’s lecturing him. ...Honestly, he stopped paying attention a few minutes ago, but his focus is brought back to the moment when she snaps those bony fingers in front of him.  
“Oi. Kir’tar. I see those shiny eyes… Come back.”  
He blinks a few times and looks up at that friendly, wrinkled face. A few of her silver braids have fallen free of the leather strip that keeps it tied back. Her pale, silvery eyes are hard to see, even from this close, as she goes back to squinting at his arm. It stopped stinging somewhere around halfway through the lecture… And she’s grumbling something again.   
“I toldja to stop it with your ‘gift’... But, of course, you’re not gonna listen to me.”  
He sighs.   
“Sif… I wouldn’t have done it if there wasn’t a guard after me.”  
“You could have toned it down a little, then! All you needed was to grab attention away, not set the whole street into another panic.”  
He shrugs, and there’s a light twinge. ….He’d forgotten about the pins and needles from her healing, and it gets a wince.   
“What can I say? I- ow.”  
Siferren sighs and reaches for her staff, pulling herself up again.   
“Hush. You brought this on yourself.”   
And she’s walking away.   
Siferren has known Kirotar for most of his life… He was about yea high when she found him with a bloody knee, and… As much as she tries not to show her own gift, she helped him up and fixed up that scrape. She told him to keep it between them and sent him on his way… And she still wishes she could do the same. But… As much as she wishes and focuses and asks, her own scars stay. Her cuts bleed just as long as anybody else’s. She thinks Ryi just has a sense of humor or something… Because if this isn’t some sort of joke, then it’s cruel. Sure, she doesn’t get sick, but… She’s still scarred up and without a few toes. And there’s a scar up one of her legs that keeps her from walking right. ...Hence the staff. Well, that and the fact that it makes for a good weapon if someone she heals decides they don’t want a Chosen able to help their enemies. But, then, that’s just some minor paranoia. She’s only actually used her abilities on people that she knows aren’t going to tell… but somebody that can heal anybody but herself has a reason to be paranoid. Chosen may not be common, but they’re not exactly rare. She can count at least five others without putting that much thought into it. One of whom is right outside the tent, trying to sell dishes. Siferren puts her hand on the girl’s shoulder, squeezing lightly before she talks.   
“Lo… If guards come by, nobody’s in the tent. I’ll be lookin’ for Nef, tell her that he’s alright.”

~

Xi is leading Nefat to the palace, and it’s annoying that she’s only bringing one. This was supposed to be the easier option… One of them never stops talking, and the other is generally reasonable, after all. Zephithen tore people apart, a few cities ago. And rumor has it that they still haven’t found all the pieces! But, knowing Jour’tal, he’ll be waiting there by the time she gets there with one person and no clue how to find the other. A brighter side, however, is that Nefat seems to be a fairly decent person… And she’s not against some conversation. Nefat seems to be asking most of the questions, though.  
“...You’re the wind-Chosen that the king snatched up a few years ago, then?”  
“Ryi’s chosen, yes. Supposedly, at least. But I don’t see how a convenient gust of wind makes me anything special... “  
“It was more than a ‘convenient gust’, Xi. You knocked over two stalls in the market, and even the king realized you’d be able to do something.”  
“What makes you think that?”  
Nefat stops, giving Xi a look that makes her feel a bit stupid for not knowing the answer. And the woman just stares at her for a moment before rolling her eyes and answering.   
“It wasn’t even a week before you were walking around in blue and grey, Xi. Clearly, someone wanted you on his side.”  
“...Oh.”  
The king wanted her? He thinks she could do things… Maybe bigger things? ...What if she got to be one of those big, important Chosen that get turned into stories? ...Her train doesn’t get much farther before Nefat is walking again, though.   
“Come on. You said we were going to the palace, right?”  
Xi almost trips over herself as she hurries to catch up.

When they make it to the palace, Jour’tal is standing next to a man a little taller than him who has a cloak pulled around him like a blanket on a cold night. It strikes Xi as odd, with how warm it already is, but… Zephithen is a strange man, if rumors are true.   
“Where’s the other one?”  
Jour’tal nods to the younger guard, and she shrugs, a bit shamefully. But Nefat answers before she gets a chance to really start.  
“Kirotar ran while he had the chance… He generally doesn’t like guards. But I can pass a message to him, if I need to.”  
The captain nods and sighs. He knows that they were already missing a few people for the prophecy… But now they have to track down Raiken’s chosen again? He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his for a moment before nodding towards the stairs to the front doors.   
“We’ll just… Have to make do for the moment, then.”  
He doesn’t know how Tith is going to react to even fewer people than he had called for, but… The king had asked for them to gather criminals, so it hopefully won’t be too much of a surprise that one of them ran.


	4. Royal Request

When they step inside, they’re led to an overly nice room with a throne at the end of it. On said throne sits the latest ruler, Tith. About whom there are quite a number of rumors… Enough that few people know what is and isn’t true, anymore. But, then, that comes with fame, Zephithen supposes. And infamy, to a point. At some point, people stop seeing the objects of the rumors as people, and they just start saying things. It’s nothing new.   
The captain strides in before all of them and stops halfway across the room, falling into a kneel. Head lowered, elbow on his knee, other fist on the ground… All of it. Would you look at this, the man’s finally let go of his sword. A part of Zephithen is tempted to say that, but… Then he’d likely get a response. So he keeps his mouth shut.   
Jour’tal starts talking, instead.  
It’s something apologetic, and… Honestly, he doesn’t care enough to pay attention. 

 

Xi, however, does. 

“Your highness, you asked for us, and while our numbers are one short, I hope I have not disappointed-”  
“Get up, Jour’tal.”  
Xi finds herself blinking as the king interrupts her captain. But Jour’tal does as asked, looking like he feels fairly awkward… Or maybe that’s just her projecting.   
After a moment, the king continues.   
“You’re going to have to find two more people anyway… Just don’t waste your own time when you do. I trust you to make the right decision.”  
Then, the king looks up at the people behind the captain, raising a brow as he speaks.   
“He knows why you’re here, but I doubt the rest of you do.”

Nefat coughs into a fist to hide a smirk. It’s a good thing Kirotar isn’t here… He would already have interrupted.

“You are here because we’re going to push a prophecy into action.”

Or he’s going to be interrupted anyways.  
Nefat steps forward, brows furrowing as she takes a breath to speak over the man.  
“You can’t just… make a prophecy happen… That’s not how prophecies work.”  
The king raises both brows, now, looking to her.  
“And you would have us just… What, wait? Our kingdom has been waiting for decades… And I don’t plan to sit around as threats close in.”  
This time, it’s Zephithen that interrupts… A shame, too. It had sounded like the king had prepared a speech… And here they are, ruining it. Nefat feels herself fighting a smile.  
“What sort of threats?”  
This time, the king sighs.   
“Non-human threats. But, because evidently, I won’t be able to tell you what I told Jour’tal, I’ll summarize. Each of you is Chosen, and after you leave, I will need you to find three more. From my understanding, we have present representatives of Fel’lor, Sen, Alkor and Kol’tur, yes?”

Zephithen feels himself tense a little. Of course this has to do with all of that. Why wouldn’t it? He’s probably going to be asked to spark light and such… Because it only makes sense. He makes light. It’s stealing his vision, but he’s not about to tell that to someone else. Not with his reputation. And he doesn’t trust anyone enough to protect him if he takes it too far.  
“I’m not a representative.”  
The words come out harsher than intended, and that gently surprised expression turns to him, now.  
“Of course… But one can only say a word so many time before it loses meaning. Chosen is no exception. But are you Alkor’s?”  
“I’m nobody’s but my own. But… Yes.”  
He replied before thinking the question over, and answered properly so he wouldn’t be asked again. And the king chuckles.   
“Bold words from someone hiding behind a cloak. But… You. Healer. Kol’tur?”

Nefat nods, somewhat hesitantly. But when she goes to talk, he raises a hand, looking away again and raising his voice a touch. Clearly, he’s getting annoyed with the interruptions.   
“We’ve been told that Alkor, Ryi, Sen, Posig’hen, Raiken, Kol’tur, and Fel’lor’s Chosen will protect us from the void- if you’ll forgive my rephrasing. Something is coming, it has been for a very long time. And I want you, and a few others, to stop it.”  
“What’s coming, then?”  
Nefat doesn’t care if he’s getting annoyed… She wants to know what she’s supposed to be ‘stopping’. And how.   
“A great darkness, unlike anything we’ve seen in lifetimes.”  
She sighs. Why is it a surprise that he comes up with some poetic answer? But she just folds her arms and looks at the other people in the room, rather than arguing. However, that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have more questions.   
“And why should we bother?”

Jour’tal looks over his shoulder at her. He can’t blame her for wanting to get something out of the situation, but… Tith is their king. ‘Why should we bother’... Because he said so. And if that’s not good enough, then for the sake of the kingdom. Shouldn’t that be obvious? But before he gets a chance to say anything, Tith is speaking up.  
“Because you will be protecting everything and everyone in this dear city and the nation it belongs to. Because you will be fulfilling one of the prophecies given by the Patrons. And… Because I will pay you handsomely, should you succeed. I do not expect this to be an act of charity, after all.”  
The healer visibly relaxes, and Jour’tal realizes for the first time that she had been tense. It’s not much of a change, but… Still. He looks back at Tith when the man shifts, evidently crossing his legs before he gestures for the captain to stand.  
“If you have any other questions, ask Jour’tal. He will be coming with you, and I put him in charge. Now, I have other things to do, so go.”

Jour’tal holds eye contact with the king for a moment, as though trying to convey something wordlessly before he turns to face the rest of them… And Xi can’t help but wonder what that was. But before she finds the words to ask, the captain nods.   
“Let’s go.”  
...They do still have a scoundrel to find. And a merchant. And… somehow, one of Ryi’s chosen.


End file.
